


doctor's orders

by devereauxed



Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Mild Angst, Pre-Canon, sick Rose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 15:31:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12656328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devereauxed/pseuds/devereauxed
Summary: Rose has a cold.And she's not at all dramatic about it.Not even a little.





	doctor's orders

**Author's Note:**

> I had a cold, so this started. 
> 
> Now Mickie caught that cold and the rest of it happened. 
> 
> Also, Alka Seltzer is the devil's fizzy water. If only it wasn't such a damn good med. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!

_I can’t meet you today_.

Luisa read the text with a sigh. She knew this day was coming, it was always like this. She and Rose would fall back together, have a hot and heavy few months, and then Rose would bolt. It was a cycle they couldn’t seem to break. 

 _Fine, Rose. You do whatever you need to do. I can’t do this anymore_ , she texted back, tossing her phone to the bed and collapsing beside it. She’d been putting clean sheets on her bed in preparation for Rose’s visit, but now she couldn’t be bothered to finish. She couldn’t believe she had done this to herself again; she knew that Rose would never admit that what they had meant something, and she was never going to leave her father. She knew that. But she couldn’t stop herself. The pull Rose had over her was more hypnotic than nearly anything else in her life – she just didn’t know how to say no.

She was startled as her phone rang next to her, and was surprised to see Rose’s name on the screen. 

“What, Rose?” she snapped. “Is it excuse time? Because I don’t want to hear it.”

“No excuses,” Rose responded, and Luisa paused, taken aback by Rose’s raspy, breathless voice. 

“What’s wrong?” Luisa asked. 

“I’m dying,” Rose said bluntly. 

“Excuse me?” Luisa asked. 

“I’m dying,” the other woman said again, sniffling slightly. 

“You’re dying,” Luisa repeated. 

“Yes.”

“Rose?”  
  
“Yes?” 

“Do you have a cold?” she asked. 

“It’s not just a cold, Luisa!” Rose burst out, and Luisa had to fight back a laugh. “It’s the cold to end all colds. It’s the cold that sank the Titanic! It might not even _be_ a cold, I’m honestly concerned it might be malaria.” 

“Sniffles really aren’t a symptom of malaria,” Luisa pointed out. 

“Maybe I have some newly evolved super-strain,” the other woman said with a cough. 

Luisa rolled her eyes. “Well it’s good that you aren’t being dramatic about this.” 

“I am not dramatic,” Rose insisted. 

“Right.” 

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, punctuated only by Rose’s light sniffles. 

“I’m sorry I won’t see you today,” Luisa murmured.

“Me too,” Rose responded softly.

“Make sure he – “ she stopped, unable to say it. The idea of someone else caring for Rose when she wasn’t feeling well, especially him, set jealousy simmering in her chest – particularly as she knew that nurturing and care-taking weren’t high on the list of things her father was good at it. “Make sure you’re taken care of.” 

“Yeah,” Rose said vaguely.

“Let me know when you’re feeling better?” Luisa asked, closing her eyes and forcing down the desperation she felt at not knowing when she’d see her next, which was further compounded by the fact that she wouldn’t know how she was in the meantime. 

“Yeah,” Rose repeated. 

“Okay,” she replied.

“Okay,” Rose said. There was a soft neediness to Rose’s voice that Luisa hadn’t heard before and set her heart pounding. 

“Bye.” 

Rose hesitated. “Bye, Lu.” 

Luisa pulled the phone away from her ear and forced herself to end the call. They were edging on something dangerous, and she knew that if she weren't careful she would likely end up in a great deal of pain.

* * *

An hour later, Luisa found herself enthralled by a horrific true crime documentary that she wanted desperately to stop watching yet at the same time couldn’t look away from. As immersed as she was in the television, the knock at the door forced a yelp from her as she threw the pillow she’d been clutching tightly to her chest. 

As soon as she caught her breath, she paused the show and opened the door. Her eyes widened as she took in the miserable-looking but exquisitely dressed Rose in the hall. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked in surprise. 

“I’m sick,” was Rose’s only reply. 

“Yes, I know,” Luisa said. “So why aren’t you home in bed being lavished with soup and knocked out with meds?” 

“Because I don’t know how to make soup and I didn’t have any medicine,” the redhead told her.

Luisa blinked at her. “Rose, you live in a _hotel_. And as much as I don’t like to think about it, don’t you have a husband who could be tasked with fetching you medicine?” 

Rose looked away. “He left. He didn’t want to get sick.” 

Luisa sighed. _Of course he did._   

“And I didn’t want room service,” Rose continued, still avoiding Luisa’s gaze. “It’s not comforting.” 

“You want comfort?” Luisa asked. 

“Yes,” Rose said, a whine creeping into her voice as she lifted her head.

“So you came here?”

“Yes,” Rose responded. “Where else would I go?”   

Brown eyes met blue searchingly, and the hopeful neediness that Luisa saw in Rose’s face nearly broke her heart. 

“Okay, come here,” she said, reaching out toward the taller woman who stepped across the threshold.

“I hope I don’t give you malaria,” Rose muttered. 

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Luisa said as she patted her gently on the back and guided her back toward the bedroom. 

Rose gave a deep chest cough and Luisa frowned, rubbing the taller woman’s back in gentle circles. She sat Rose gently on the bed and turned to rummage through her dresser. 

“Put these on,” she said as she shoved a bundle of clothes into Rose’s arms before heading toward the bathroom.

“Why?” she asked. 

“Because you’re sick and that’s absolutely the last time you should be wearing anything pressed or linen,” Luisa called over her shoulder.

Opening the medicine cabinet, Luisa sighed. It was just as bare as she’d expected. It wasn’t that she didn’t get sick, it was that she rarely _admitted_ she was, and as a result she never kept meds in the house. She went to medical school; she didn’t need cold medicine – or so she insisted. It was certainly not the only reason, but it helped not to think of it in terms of her willpower.

She rustled through the drawers, knowing there was at least a thermometer somewhere in the apartment, and found it hiding beneath what looked to be every hair tie she’d lost in the last year, pulling a random roll of cough drops from the drawer as well. 

By the time she walked back into the bedroom Rose had collapsed backwards on the bed pathetically, her nicer clothes in a haphazard pile on the floor. The way Rose was laying had caused the t-shirt she was wearing to ride up, baring her pale skin to Luisa’s gaze. She knew that Rose was sick, but even that didn’t stop Luisa from wanting her – at this point she was unsure anything would – and she lost her train of thought, eyes tracing the freckles along her hips.   

After a minute, Rose shifted her head and looked at Luisa with a sniffle. “Your sweatpants don’t fit me.” 

Luisa shifted her gaze to Rose’s legs and let out a small laugh. Rose had a good four inches on Luisa, and as a result the sweatpants only came to mid-calf. 

“Well they would if you weren’t a _tree_ ,” Luisa replied, moving toward the bed. 

“It’s not my fault you’re a toddler,” Rose mumbled. 

“Let’s not make our relationship even more problematic than it already is,” Luisa said casually, nudging Rose to the side so she could pull the blankets over her. 

“No,” the redhead grumbled, twisting away. 

“Rose, you need to stay warm,” Luisa huffed.

“I’m already too warm,” she replied.

“I don’t care, come here,” Luisa replied, wrestling the redhead under the blankets.

Rose groaned but gave in, nestling into the pillows. 

“Now what are the odds you’re going to let me take your temperature without a fight?” Luisa asked as she waggled the thermometer at her. 

“What do you think?” 

Luisa sighed. “Why are you so difficult?” 

“It’s part of my charm.” 

“Is it?” she said. 

“Yes,” Rose said, her self-satisfied smile somewhat diminished by the large sniffle she followed it up with. 

“Open,” Luisa ordered. 

Rose raised a challenging eyebrow. 

“ _Now_ ,” Luisa added. 

With a dramatic sigh, Rose complied and Luisa slid the thermometer into her mouth. They stared at each other as they waited for the beep and Luisa couldn’t fight a smile at Rose’s slightly pitiful look and the way her normally perfect hair was already mussed. 

At the beep, Luisa pulled the thermometer from Rose’s mouth and looked at it. Her fever was high enough to be mildly concerning, and Luisa knew she needed to get some medicine into the redhead’s system sooner rather than later. 

“Yeah, you’re gonna be in that bed for awhile,” Luisa said, standing. 

Rose grinned.

“Don’t look so excited, it’s only going to get worse from here,” the brunette warned.

“Is that your professional opinion?” 

“In my professional medical opinion you’re a pain in the ass,” Luisa replied.  

"Do I get a lollipop for that?" Rose asked as she burrowed further into Luisa’s pillow and coughed. Luisa threw the roll of cough drops onto the bed.

“No, but you get these. They should help for now, but I’m going to run out to get you something else.”

Rose pulled the pack from the blankets and looked at them. “I can’t use these.” 

Luisa blinked at her. “Why, exactly?” 

“They’re too minty,” Rose replied tossing them onto the nightstand. 

“Are you kidding me?” 

“No,” the redhead said. “I can only use the honey-lemon kind.” 

Luisa bit the inside of her cheek. “Fine. Honey-lemon cough drops, tissues, Nyquil-“ 

“I can’t take Nyquil,” Rose cut in. 

“Okay,” Luisa said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “if you keep this up I’m actually going to kill you.” 

“No, Luisa, I _can’t_ ,” the redhead replied earnestly.

“Why?” Luisa asked, exasperatedly. 

Rose muttered something that Luisa couldn’t hear, so she pressed, “What?” 

Rose sighed and crossed her arms, looking away. “It gives me nightmares.” 

Luisa didn’t even try and keep a straight face, and Rose flicked her eyes back toward Luisa and caught the smile.

“Shut _up_ ,” Rose said. 

“That’s adorable,” Luisa said. 

“Wait until I kick you in fear at three a.m.,” the redhead replied with a huff, slouching down further in bed. 

“You don’t scare me,” she replied, and Rose narrowed her eyes. 

“Okay,” Luisa continued. “I’ll get you something else, any other requests?” 

Rose opened her mouth, then hesitated. 

“What?” Luisa asked.

“Pineapple orange banana juice?” the redhead asked hopefully. 

“Did you just make that up?” Luisa asked suspiciously. 

“No,” Rose replied. “My dad used to get it for me when I was little.” 

Luisa tilted her head as looked down at her warmly. It was rare for Rose to give up something so personal, especially without a fight – she was definitely sick.   

“You got it,” Luisa replied, leaning forward to kiss Rose briefly on the forehead before heading back into the hall. 

She threw on a jacket and grabbed her keys from the counter before calling back to the bedroom, “You better still be in bed when I get back!”

She heard Rose grumble something in response and smiled, a flutter going through her chest at the sheer domesticity of it all. She swallowed hard, doing her best not to imagine what they could have had if things had just gone a little differently. 

Down the hall, Rose broke into a coughing fit and jolted her from her reverie. She was tiptoeing into dangerous territory with thoughts like that.  

With a shake of her head, she stepped out into the hall and shut the door firmly behind her. But try as she might she couldn’t stop the flutter in her chest at the image of Rose there waiting for her, in her bed, when she got home. 

* * *

“I’m home!” Luisa called as she walked in the door. “Did you behave?” 

“No!” came Rose’s hoarse reply. 

Luisa rolled her eyes as she stepped into the kitchen. She grabbed two glasses, filled one with water and the other with the (surprisingly real) triple-fruit juice before carrying them and the bag of medicine into the bedroom. 

In her absence, Rose had turned on the television and cocooned herself in the blankets. Luisa could tell by the haze in her eyes that her fever had likely gone up. 

“Hi there,” Luisa said softly. 

Rose waggled a finger at her pitifully. 

“Aw, babe,” the brunette said sympathetically, taking a seat next to her on the bed. She set the glasses on the nightstand by Rose before pulling out the new roll of cough drops, tissues, and a box of Alka Seltzer. 

“What’s that?” Rose asked, poking at the box. 

“It’s the medicine you’re going to take without giving me a hard time,” Luisa said firmly, pulling the box open and leaning over to drop two tablets into the water, hearing the tell-tale fizz. 

The redhead peered over at it with undisguised disdain, her nose wrinkling. “It’s making noise.” 

“It is.” 

“I don’t know how I feel about audible medicine,” she said. 

“Yeah, I really don’t care, you’re taking it,” Luisa said, resting a hand on Rose’s hip and giving her a look.     

Once the tablets had fully dissolved, Rose picked up the glass, gave it a sniff, and took a tentative sip. The look on the redhead’s face as she pushed the drink back onto the nightstand would have been comical if it wasn’t so frustrating. 

 “I can’t drink that.” 

Luisa looked to the ceiling for a moment and took a deep, calming breath. “Why?” 

“It tastes like death.” 

“Rose, I swear to god.” 

“It does!” she insisted. “It’s lemon-flavored fizzy death!” 

Without another thought, Luisa straddled Rose and cupped her face firmly in her hands, forcing her to meet her eye. “Drink it.” 

“I-“ the other woman started, but Luisa cut her off. 

“No. _Drink. It._ ,” she said fiercely. 

With wide, wary eyes, Rose carefully reached out and grasped the glass again. She slowly brought it to her lips and Luisa pulled her hands back, just enough for to be able to drink. With a truly pained expression, Rose forced down the medicine, making a truly undignified noise of disgust as the last of the grit in the bottom of the glass made its way down her throat. 

“Thank you,” Luisa said cheerfully, shifting sideways to stand and taking the glass from her. “See how much easier things are when you just do what I say?” 

Rose slid further down in bed and pulled the blankets up to her chin, watching Luisa cautiously. Luisa just grinned at her and walked back out of the room, her hips swaying.

When she made her way back into the bedroom ten minutes later, she found Rose asleep, clutching her pillow tightly. She was so childlike in that moment that Luisa felt a twinge in her chest and, without warning, felt tears sting her eyes. She took a deep breath – this couldn’t happen. She needed to keep up the walls, she needed to protect herself. 

But even as she pulled off her clothes and crawled carefully into bed, drawing Rose gently against her, she knew those walls were long gone, if they’d ever existed at all.  

* * *

The next morning Luisa slowly opened her eyes and looked around blearily. Sunlight had just begun to flood the room. She stretched slightly and jumped when she felt the press of an arm against the skin of her stomach. 

Rose was passed out next to her, one hand wrapped in Luisa’s shirt, the other clutching a ball of Kleenex; she was snoring slightly, mouth open with a small line of drool leaking onto the pillow below her, and her nose was red and raw. 

In that moment Luisa realized she had never loved Rose more. 

A pang of sadness rippled through her. She’d known for a long time – years even – that she loved Rose but it was something else entirely to think it so casually. Never before had Rose been so vulnerable, so real and attainable. Before, she had always maintained an idealistic inaccessibility – she was a dream Luisa could only pretend to have. Even at their most intimate, when Rose would come undone beneath her hands or mouth, there was some part of her that Luisa just couldn’t reach. But now Rose was trusting her with her imperfections, and the thought brought a lump to her throat. 

It was almost cruel. She knew that Rose would never give in and let them live a life this simple and loving, so allowing her have it now, even for a moment, was gut-wrenching. Having Rose in her bed for something other than sex, being the one to take care of her, god even just _dealing_ with her, but knowing all the while it was going to gone by the next day left Luisa feeling bereft. She wanted to shove at her, force her from her apartment and her life, but she couldn’t. She wanted her, she wanted _this_ , however brief and however painful – she wanted a taste of what life could have been if the world weren’t so unkind. 

She pressed a hand to Rose’s forehead, relieved to feel that her fever had gone down. The other woman’s eyes fluttered open and met her gaze sleepily. 

They stared at each other for a moment, Luisa running a hand softly through Rose’s hair, waiting for her reaction.

Out of nowhere, Rose sneezed - directly into Luisa's face.  

As the brunette gave a few stunned blinks, Rose belatedly covered her face with her hand, the shaking of her shoulders negating the apologetic look in her eye. 

Raising a hand to wipe her face, Luisa swallowed. “Okay. Well. You just signed up to take care of me when I catch this newly evolved strain of malaria in twenty-four to thirty-six hours.” 

“I thought you didn’t get sick,” Rose asked with a smile. 

“I think I can make an exception for you.”


End file.
